


How to Care For Your Dragon

by TulipFluff



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Gen, pre-httyd2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TulipFluff/pseuds/TulipFluff
Summary: Snotlout is actually not a bad Dragon Rider. Hookfang and Snotlout (and Lockjaw) deserve a sweet bonding fic: here it is.
Relationships: Hookfang & Snotlout Jorgenson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	How to Care For Your Dragon

“You did _amazing_ today, Hookfang,” Snotlout said. His hands were fiddling with the straps holding Hookfang’s saddle in place, finally undoing the clasp and setting it aside. Hookfang shook out his neck, _th’rumming_ quietly. “ _So_ much better than those _other_ dragons, I’m sure,” Snotlout said, “but I think you carried their slack pretty well. We kinda have that thing in common.”

Hookfang settled lower on his claws, putting his back in better range for Snotlout to begin removing saddlebags and other carefully wrapped packages from his friend’s sides. That was always the thing about Nightmares, Snotlout mused. You had to wrap and tie everything _carefully_ , or else it would all go up in flames next time the Nightmare lit up.

It had taken quite a few tries to figure out how to saddle Hookfang without leaving himself in the Nightmare’s burn radius. Eventually, he’d taken to washing down the Nightmare’s neck early in the morning before saddling him, taking a wet cloth and wiping up some of the excess fire gel. It kept the flames lower, and Hookfang hardly reacted, so long as the water was warm and Snotlout let him smell the cloth the first few times.

A tell-tale quiet grumbling was Snotlout’s only warning before his other dragon came barreling down from the trees, but for Snotlout that was all the warning he needed these days. His hand had already reached for the femur bone he usually carried at his side, and spinning around, he brought the bone up just as his Terror’s jaws clicked open.

Happily, the Terror began to gnaw on the bone instead of his arm, and Snotlout only sighed.

“Nice to see you, too, Lockjaw,” he said to the dangling dragon. Lockjaw clicked at him from the back of his throat, and Snotlout lowered him to the floor. The purple Terror circled the area with his bone, settling down close by to begin attacking his prize. Snotlout rolled his eyes and continued his work.

“Weird dragon,” he muttered, but there was a hint of fondness there as well.

Checking Hookfang over one last time, Snotlout called out, “Light it up, Hook!” and the Nightmare’s body burst into flame. Snotlout began to dig through one of the bags, finally locating a clean rag and grabbing a flask of recently boiled water and, motioning for his dragon to stop, walked up to the Nightmare.

“There you go, buddy,” he said, running the cloth down over the red and black scales, sending flakes of ash down to the ground. Hookfang _th’rummed_ again, dropping to his belly as Snotlout began the long process of clearing away ash and soot. Occasionally, dried flakes would cling to Hookfang’s scales, and Snotlout would wet the cloth and gently scratch them away.

Hookfang sighed, and eyes half-closed, allowed Snotlout to continue his work. Snotlout had realized after a few months with his dragon that, for a Monstrous Nightmare, their fire jacket ability to light themselves on fire was more than just a flashy battle technique. He’d began to notice it when Hookfang kept lighting himself on fire even when there was no battles to be fought, or even when Hookfang was in a place that really _shouldn’t_ be exposed to random bursts of fire, such as barns or Snotlout’s home.

At first, he’d just attributed it to Hookfang’s stubborn and less-than-agreeable nature. He mostly figured that Hookfang was doing it just to get him in trouble with his father, really. Or at least, he had, until one day he heard Fishlegs worrying himself sick over some mites he’d found on that Gronkle of his, and most of the other riders had inspected their own dragons and found similar situations.

He’d been dreading searching Hookfang, only imagining the itch he’d feel in his head everytime they rode for the next week, but to his and everyone’s surprise, they’d found nothing on the Nightmare besides a few clusters of ash clinging here and there.

It was Fishlegs who had nodded and said, “Maybe Stoker class dragons don’t get mites cause they burn them away?” And Hiccup had nodded and Snotlout brushed away the ash and had an idea.

From then on, he and Hookfang did this at least a week. While the others would have to rub their dragons down with smelly oils to clean away any irritating mites, he and Hookfang would slip away from the village and just burn them away in one quick burst. By doing this regularly, Snotlout kept the mites down and with it, the random bursts of fire down. Eventually, his dad even let up and let Hookfang go back to sleeping in the barn.

Brushing away the ashes, however, was a personal touch Snotlout did on his own. The ash clumps that clung to his skin did not seem to be a huge inconvience for Hookfang unless Snotlout forgot to brush them away from his neck before saddling him. However, Snotlout thought that Hookfang appreciated it at least, and after a few months of routine, the Nightmare’s scales began to lighten and shine with new brilliance, so they kept up their careful regime.

Finally at the tail, Snotlout carefully worked between the spines, dusting away until all the ash was cleared away, and Hookfang nearly shone. Standing up to admire his work, Snotlout called out, “Whatcha think, Hook?” but turned and found his Nightmare already slumbering away. Smiling to himself, Snotlout shrugged, removing a blanket from his travel pack and lying it on the ground by Hookfang’s side. With the warmth of a huge Stoker class Nightmare so close, he did not need to bother with a campfire, and Hookfang’s neck shifted in his sleep to curl closer around his rider.

“Night, buddy,” Snotlout said, deciding they could just get an earlier start in the morning. It was just a scouting mission, after all.

Settling into his fur blanket, Snotlout was almost asleep when he felt something slither to his side. Cracking open an eye and shifting the blanket, he saw Lockjaw curled on top of his feet, jaw chewing his bone even in sleep. Snotlout sighed, and only murmured sleepily, “You bite me, I’ll feed you to Fang, Lock,” but doubted he even meant it. The three were deep asleep in minutes, quiet and content.


End file.
